Chapter 6 - Storage Unit M-27

Montreal was cold before sunrise.

Storage facility M-27 opened at six.

We arrived at 5:52.

The manager looked at Marco’s identification.

Then at the ledger.

Then at a photograph Arthur found in his phone.

Elena.

The manager nodded.

“She rents unit 27.”

“Under what name?”

“Eleanor Stone.”

Marco frowned.

“Can we open it?”

“No.”

Daniel showed his retired police credentials.

The manager laughed.

“Wrong country.”

Arthur smiled.

“I like him.”

At 6:03, Marco’s phone rang.

Unknown number.

Victor.

Marco answered.

“Where is my mother?”

Victor replied:

“Alive.”

“Where?”

“With me.”

“What do you want?”

“Your father.”

Marco didn’t react.

Victor laughed softly.

“So you opened the compartment.”

“Yes.”

“Then you know.”

“Yes.”

“Where is Anthony?”

“I don’t know.”

A pause.

Victor’s voice hardened.

“Elena does.”

Marco looked at storage unit 27.

Victor continued.

“Find him.”

“Bring him to me.”

“Or Elena disappears for real this time.”

The call ended.

Daniel looked at Marco.

“He’s afraid.”

“Of my father.”

“Yes.”

Arthur pointed at the unit.

“Then whatever is inside matters.”

We waited until the manager obtained emergency authorization from the registered account contact.

He called the number.

It rang.

No answer.

Then a second contact.

A man answered.

The manager spoke in French.

His face changed.

He handed the phone to Marco.

“Someone wants to speak to you.”

Marco took it.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice.

Older.

Careful.

“Marco?”

Marco froze.

No one moved.

“Who is this?”

The man breathed.

Then:

“Your father.”

Marco sat down.

Just like that.

No dramatic speech.

No shouting.

His legs simply stopped holding him.

Valentina covered her mouth.

Arthur closed his eyes.

Daniel whispered:

“Anthony.”

Marco held the phone tighter.

“You’re alive.”

“Yes.”

“My mother said—”

“I know.”

“She was trying to bring you to me.”

“Where are you?”

“Not on the phone.”

“Victor has Mom.”

Silence.

Then Anthony’s voice changed.

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Did he get the ledger?”

“No.”

“The keys?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Marco almost laughed.

“Good?”

“He cannot be allowed to control those records.”

“He has my mother.”

“I know.”

“Then tell me where you are.”

Anthony was silent.

Marco’s voice cracked.

“Sixteen years.”

Nothing.

“Nineteen years since you supposedly died.”

Nothing.

“Do not make me beg.”

Anthony whispered:

“I’m in Quebec.”

“Where?”

“Saint-Armand.”

Arthur looked up.

Daniel knew the name.

“Near the border.”

Anthony continued.

“There’s a church outside town.”

“Saint Michael’s.”

“Come alone.”

Marco’s face hardened.

“No.”

“Marco.”

“No more instructions.”

“Victor has Mom.”

“Arthur is here.”

“Daniel is here.”

“Valentina is here.”

“Claire is here.”

“You want me?”

“You get all of us.”

Silence.

Then Anthony laughed quietly.

“You sound like your mother.”

Marco closed his eyes.

“I barely remember her voice.”

Anthony stopped laughing.

“I know.”

An hour later, unit 27 opened.

Inside were boxes.

Not money.

Not weapons.

Records.

Photographs of Marco growing up.

Newspaper clippings.

School awards.

Business announcements.

His first public charity event.

His first company acquisition.

His engagement announcement.

Anthony had watched everything from a distance.

Marco touched one photograph.

He was twenty-two.

Standing outside the estate.

On the back:

HE LOOKS HAPPY.

DO NOT GO BACK YET.

Marco stared at the handwriting.

Arthur whispered:

“Your father.”

Another note.

Age twenty-seven.

HE LOOKS MORE LIKE ME EVERY YEAR.

Another.

Age thirty-one.

VITTORIO IS LOSING CONTROL OF HIM.

Marco stopped.

“My uncle.”

Daniel looked at the notes.

“Anthony was watching your uncle too.”

At the back of the unit stood one locked metal case.

Code.

Marco tried M-27.

Wrong.

Arthur tried Anthony’s birthday.

Wrong.

Valentina looked at the engagement photograph.

Then at Marco.

“Try your mother’s disappearance date.”

Marco entered it.

The case opened.

Inside was a satellite phone.

Two passports.

Cash.

And a small digital recorder.

Marco pressed play.

Anthony’s voice.

“If this is being played, Victor found Elena.”

Everyone exchanged a look.

Anthony continued.

“Do not trade me for her.”

Marco’s jaw tightened.

“Victor wants one thing more than the ledger.”

“What?” Valentina whispered.

The recording answered.

“He wants proof I survived.”

Daniel frowned.

“Why?”

Anthony continued.

“Because if I am alive, every conviction, appointment, and financial transfer Victor built around my death can be reopened.”

Arthur understood.

“He used Anthony’s death as a legal foundation.”

Daniel nodded.

“Witness closures.”

“Sealed cases.”

“Asset transfers.”

“Promotions.”

Marco stared.

“My father being alive doesn’t only expose murder.”

“It collapses twenty years of protected lies.”

The recorder clicked.

Then Anthony’s final sentence.

“And if Victor has Elena, do not assume she is the hostage.”

Marco looked up.

Arthur whispered:

“What does that mean?”

A phone vibrated inside the case.

Not ours.

The satellite phone.

Marco answered.

Elena’s voice.

“Marco.”

He stood.

“Mom?”

“I’m fine.”

“Where are you?”

“With Victor.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

Her voice was steady.

Too steady.

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Then:

“I went with him on purpose.”